


From Beginning to End

by Sadepisara



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:45:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadepisara/pseuds/Sadepisara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both have shit ideas, one worse than the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> A thing I've been working on lately.

"Goddamnit Vegard!" Bård stood up and slammed his fist into the table, startling all the other team members in the meeting. "Do you even care anymore? About this? You're so ridiculous, I don't know what to believe anymore."

"Calm down," Vegard said calmly though his insides were boiling. "I care. I would be far away from you if I didn't, trust me. Sit down."

"Then why aren't we in Trondheim right now filming my segment?" Bård seemed anything but calm as he ignored his brother's order. His face was red and his hands were adding to his intimidating voice with their wild gestures.

"Because it was a shit idea from beginning to end," Vegard stated firmly, voice getting just a bit louder. He avoided eye contact with his brother. "Nobody just had the balls to tell you, but I am now."

"That's such shit," Bård hissed, completely dismissing one of the team members who carefully tried to say something. "Full of shit is what you are. We're not filming it because you are sabotaging my work!"

"Yeah?" Vegard provoked his brother.

"Yeah! God, Vegard! You don't even have the courage to stand up for yourself!" Bård scoffed angrily and shook his head. "You sabotaged it and you know it. You said no to those sponsors just to piss me off."

"And what if I did?" Vegard snapped, a defiant glare in his eyes, and for once Bård was without words.

\- - -

"Happy birthday, shit stain," Vegard's slightly passive voice sounded through the phone. Bård groaned.

"Vegard what..? Are you seriously calling me at five in the morning -" he whispered to avoid waking his wife and massaged his face with his palm. "-on my actual birthday, to wish me a _happy birthday?_ Makes it a very unhappy one, if anything."

"Well it doesn't matter at what time I call you as you're still going to be unhappy as soon as you hear my voice," Vegard rambled and Bård could practically hear the satisfied grin on his face through the phone. "But no, I called you to make an offer. You'll decline it, but you know I'm stubborn."

"I really don't want to hear it," Bård said bluntly, but he knew his brother was stubborn.

\- - -

It was a fulltime job to make Bård agree to his offer. His brother was just as persistent as himself and would hold his ground as long as Vegard held his, always suspicious whenever the older brother wanted him to do something not work-related, especially if it involved hanging out with said brother.

It took him weeks of nagging, persuading and subtle threatening. He even talked with Maria about it and made her take his side. She thought it was a good idea, the boys could use some time together, off from the pressure of work. With her on his back about it, Bård couldn't do anything but agree.

And in the end he did, with an irritated sigh, making it tremendously clear that he did it only to make Vegard shut the hell up about it. Vegard felt a small spark of victory in his gut. Their games never subsided and winning the brother in anything, even an unfair psychological trick, was - aside from another nail in his coffin when it came to their cooling relationship - a cause of mild celebration.

But his desire to annoy his brother to the brink of madness wasn't the real reason to his offer. In fact, he had long wished for a day off from disturbances and work surroundings, one actually spent together with his brother - god, he didn't feel very encouraged by the whole idea anymore, but something had to be done. Things hadn't been good between them since their fight at work, weeks ago, a couple days before Bård's birthday. It was stupid, they had gotten over it already, but they were even chillier in the company of each other than before. Work had been moved a couple weeks forward so they'd have time to cool off, but Vegard didn't think that would do the trick. It might have worked in the past, but truth was that he felt less and less connected to his brother in a brotherly sense as days and weeks flew past. The work partnership was taking over wholly, it had been having the upper hand for years, and Vegard knew they needed some time to be only brothers in the middle of all the show business nonsense to be able to work as one.

So naturally his train of thought had taken him to possibly the worst solution ever.

He knew Bård hated flying, especially in a private plane, crammed into his small seat with his long legs, tied to his place beside his older brother. He knew Bård didn't like small places, nor being high in the air without any control of anything, but he promised Bård would be allowed to do whatever he wanted with the show for the rest of the season if he would agree to come flying with Vegard.

It was only eight in the morning when Vegard pulled up outside Bård's house. He let his window down and leaned out with his elbow, looking absent minded at the house. A yellow warm light spilled out of almost every window, moving lazily in the receding night outside. Vegard's nephew and nieces had probably woken up their parents hours ago.

Vegard waited. Of course Bård was late. He needed to protect his ego, couldn't be on time now that he had been so brutally pressured into something he didn't particularly feel up to. It didn't bother Vegard, he often used the same trick. He only smiled at the thought of Bård probably whining at that very moment about having to go and waste one of his free days by doing two extremely energy-consuming activities he wasn't fond of; spending time in a small private plane high above a height for "normal people", and spending that time with his big brother. Vegard could imagine Maria rolling her eyes and sighing fondly, handing him his jacket and ushering him towards the door while convincing him he'll have a good time and that his brother isn't _that_ bad.

Vegard had always liked Maria. She seemed to always willingly pick Vegard's side whenever Bård had one of his I-don't-like-my-brother-tantrums, which had often proved to be a considerable weapon and advantage for Vegard. She was a caring and loving woman, but sometimes Bård needed to be brought off his high horse, and she never hesitated to take to rough means.

He looked up at the house again, shivering slightly as the chilly morning breeze kissed his newly shaven cheek. The different flowers of Bård's carefully grown garden were starting to sprout, some even bloomed already. Vegard knew the red ones were Bård's favourite, difficult to take care of and get to actually grow, but fantastic once they bloomed fully. He yawned and looked up at the sky. It was going to be a beautiful day, if a little cold despite being late April.

Vegard observed the shadows frequently moving in the kitchen. A chubby hand reaching for a glass of milk, someone buttering a slice of bread that isn't for them, two parents coaxing half-hearted 'thank yous' from kids with sugary cereal in their mouths and awakening mischief in their eyes.

It wasn't that Vegard didn't want to go up to the house and wait. He loved the kids and it was always a joy to speak to Maria, but he knew those tender and fragile moments that only the core of a family could have. He loved those moments dearly, and he knew his brother was the same. He didn't want to be even more of an intruder in Bård's life.

Domestic life, Vegard though with a tug on his lips. The life his little brother missed more than being away from Vegard when they were somewhere far away, and got bored of faster than his coffee brewed in cold winter mornings when he actually got to settle down for a while. Bård had a tricky mind, hard to please and keep that way once succeeding, but they had always known that.

Finally, twenty minutes after their set time, the front door clicked open to reveal Bård's form in his slouchy old jeans and favourite grey hoodie, a relatively boring combination spiced up by his bright green hummels. His youngest child, his son, clung to his leg tightly, refusing to let go. His round face was twisted into a snotty cry as his slimy palms dotted with porridge grabbed the rough fabric in a desperate attempt of keeping his father home. The poor boy had probably grown used to Bård being home now that he'd been off work for weeks, while the fear of him leaving again nested in his young mind as a constant reminder of the father's habit of disappearing for an extended period of time.

Vegard felt a familiar pang of guilt drop his heart. He recognized himself far too well in Bård's distressed expression as he knelt down to comfort the boy while calling for his wife to come and take over the situation. He turned to the driveway, mouthing,

"Look! There's uncle Vegard in the car!" while pointing in Vegard's direction. Vegard smiled and waved his hand but the boy seemed unimpressed. "Listen, I'll only be away until evening. I'll be back to read you a bedtime story. How does that sound? You can go and choose which one you want, okay?"

Maria came eventually and pried away the upset boy, and Bård was free to stand up again. He pulled up his jeans which still showed a strip of his boxer-clad behind. He might be a father of three, Vegard thought and chewed on his dry lip, but he would always be a rebellious teenager at heart.

Bård sat down in the car with a bitter expression, clearly trying to show how unhappy he was with the whole thing. Vegard glanced at him, smiling faintly with compassion, as the younger brother sighed and drove a hand through his hair. The light strands had grown since they saw each other last. It was interesting how Vegard noticed every small change in his brother without actively observing him. He wasn't sure if he was particularly happy about it. Signs of his brother changing meant they were both changing. Vegard didn't like change.

"Are we going or what?" Bård snapped without offering one glance to his brother. Without further discussion Vegard turned the key in it's place and the engine hummed to life and filled the uncomfortable air around them, leaving them both to their own thoughts.

They rolled out on the motorway in complete silence. Vegard couldn't help but to think back on their Norges Herligste days. Hours upon hours together on the dark road, tiredly muttering something to the other when they were both awake. At least they'd talked back then, if you could call it that. This was just ice all the way through, and Vegard found no way to break it.

"I don't know what kind of stroke of genius you think this is," Bård said suddenly when they had sat in silence for about twenty minutes. "But I'd love to know why you're doing it. Just out of curiosity. What do you think you'll achieve with this? Because I think this is a shit idea from beginning to end, to quote yourself."

Vegard laughed despite Bård's grumpy tones. He refused to take his brother's bait and get into a fight now.

"Kind of guessed you'd ask me something like that," he answered with a smirk. "So I thought out an explanation. No but really though, Bård," he turned serious and glanced at his brother. "Thirteen years. It's been thirteen years and somewhere along those years we lost the most important part - celebrating."

"Celebrating?" Bård huffed and turned his bored face to look out the window. "What is your old fart of a mind going on about? We're celebrating all the time. Not a single week will go by without some award or other reason to hold a used and boring speech."

"Artificial," Vegard said, shaking his head disapproovingly. "So artificial. It's not real. It's just people - media. Money. Tell me, when have we last celebrated together? When has Ylvis last celebrated?"

"If I wanted to celebrate I would have grabbed a book and locked myself somewhere where the kids or Maria or -" Bård threw a meaningful glance at Vegard's hands on the steering wheel, "- _you_ wouldn't find me."

"I know you would," Vegard answered with a smile.

"And speaking of celebration," Bård continued. "What's a party without champagne?"

Vegard laughed. Bård was already daring to make half-serious jokes. Victory was practically his. This day would be good, he knew it.

"You know I can't drink, I'm driving a plane."

"But I'm not," Bård pointed out, though he knew the decision was made long ago.

"No alcohol in my plane."

"Then you owe me one."


	2. Airborne

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Vegard beamed, patting the metal surface of the plane.

"Looks pretty worn to me. Are you sure it's safe?" Bård eyes the thing up and down suspiciously, standing a few steps away from it and his brother, his hands firmly tucked into the pockets of his too warm jacket.

"Me and her have been friends for years, I know how to handle her mood swings!" Vegard stroked the underside of a wing affectionately. "She wouldn't dare hurt us."

Bård wished Vegard would stop talking about the machine as if it was a person. Humans hurt others more easily than inanimate objects.

Vegard worked with the plane for a while, climbing up into it, back down and under to check something, then dodged under the wings and ran around to the back, all the while muttering something enthusiastically. Bård grew bored of it soon and sighed repeatedly, more loudly each time.

"There!" Vegard exclaimed at last and rubbed his hands together. "All done."

They climbed into the device, Bård almost hit his head in the roof as he tried to fit with his long limbs. He didn't like it one bit, and wouldn't hesitate to let that show on his face. Vegard took no notice.

Bård closed his eyes as the small plane rushed toward the end of the runway at Vegard's command. In his mind he hoped over and over again that they would lift already, but he didn't dare to look how much asphalt they had left before destruction began. Takeoffs were the worst, or perhaps landings. Either of them had the potential to end very badly. At least the flying part felt somewhat safe, as long as the pretty flight attendants smiled and the plane flew without bouncing too much. It was just that now there was no flight attendants or any option of putting his brother on the window seat and asking him to pull down the plastic curtain. The cockpit was practically one big window and pulling down nonexistent curtains was the last thing he wanted to do when the pilot of the whole thing sat beside him and needed to see.

"Cabin crew please take your seats," Vegard chirped as he pushed the lever all the way and the plane hummed in maximum speed. Bård could hear the half-childish, half-maniac grin on his face through his words. "We're ready for takeoff."

Bård felt the awful suction in his stomach. His eyes opened wide and he could see the safe earth disappearing from underneath them. Vegard was laughing triumphantly beside him. Bård felt like smacking him in the head with something.

"We'll go northwest, up until we reach the mountains," Vegard said. "Then we turn east and loop slowly back home. We'll be halfway to Bergen before we turn though."

Bård almost groaned. He didn't want to go that far, and he did not want to go anywhere near mountains. The air tended to be very uneven up there. He wondered whether the plane had any tracking device, just in case...

"Look! Do you see your house? It's over there somewhere," Vegard pointed down on and endless sea of houses as they flew over Oslo, and Bård felt annoyed. Vegard was clearly just trying to show off, and the 'somewhere' was proof enough of that. Besides, he didn't want to know where his family was having a nice and calm day together without him, while he was having anything but a pleasant time. That if anything annoyed him.

Bård listened closely, noting every sound the plane made. He didn't like any of them, but none of them seemed too fatal. Vegard seemed to be the opposite, carelessly leaning back and lazily operating the plane with the help of all his monitors and blinking lights. Bård didn't know what any of them meant, but he wondered if one could read out an upcoming catastrophe by them.

Vegard was a pretty good pilot, Bård had to give him that. Or maybe he was mediocre, Bård hadn't been in any other private planes but his brother's. Either way everything was going fine and Bård managed to relax his tensed muscles, noting how they ached and felt tired. He was sporting a heavy headache but managed to ignore it almost as effectively as he ignored his brother. They both could just lean back and be in each other's presence, no pretense or tension or connection between them. The goal was to one day enjoy that presence.

Mild turbulence started to shake the plane and Bård's mind as they were nearing the mountains. Bård wanted them to turn already, but Vegard was persistent and wanted to go just a bit further, there was no danger and he had been through worse.

They started talking, though Bård suspected it was just Vegard's way of trying to take the younger brother's mind off the flying for a while. It didn't work, but Bård didn't complain aloud. His brother was after all trying to make it more pleasant for him, though the right way would have been to turn the damn plane around already.

They discussed Bård's daughters' good grades in school, a subject Bård was happy to talk about. He was proud of them both, and his son of course, though he was so young his results hardly mattered yet. True intelligence awakened a bit later.

"And she was really great in geography too, one of the best in her grade. Or so she told me and Maria," Bård said and thought about it for a second. "You never know though. She's sly, tries to make us believe she's a real genius. Luckily I know every trick she's trying now. You remember how I was when I was her age?"

That was when he noticed Vegard had gone silent for a long while. He waited, observed his older brother closely for a sign of some sort to prove his fears wrong, while his heart thumped faster by the second. Was Vegard paler than he had been a minute ago?

"What is it?" he asked sternly. "Is something wrong? Vegard, what's going on?"

"Nothing," the black haired man muttered and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "We just seem to be losing some altitude, though very slowly. Must be the petrol running out, though the tank should be only half empty by now." He scratched his head and chewed at his lip. Bård would have made a remark of how he looks like a monkey, had he not been so nervous. "A leakage probably. Must get that checked."

In that instant a sharp rumble sounded from behind them and a bright orange light went on on the board in front of them.

"What the fuck was that?" Bård shouted and jumped in his seat, grabbing at whatever he reached. "Vegard, what's happening?"

"Fuck, I don't know," he mumbled and ran his hands over the lights and buttons.

"Well do something about it!" Bård shouted, both angry and panicky. He felt as if there wasn't enough air for the both of them.

"I'm trying," Vegard hissed through gritted teeth. He reached for a small flip-button, but a loud and startling bang, almost like an explosion, shook the plane violently and made Vegard hit his head in the window.

\- - -

Vegard didn't know at which point Bård had started screaming. Everything seemed dizzied and dulled somehow, dreamlike maybe, before he cleared his head enough to pull his consciousness into the situation. 

Panic seated in between them as soon as the weird sound flew through the cockpit, and while it gripped Bård's lungs tightly, Vegard tried to keep his head clear and eyes open even before the catastrophe that was starting to unveil and open up its dreadful arms for them.

His head was empty though his hands moved, mechanically seeking for a solution, a way to avoid what was rushing up from below. The basic tricks didn't work. Hell, he didn't even know what was wrong with the thing! Anger flashed through him and stretched at his veins as adrenaline forced its way through in swift spurts. How was he supposed to fix something he didn't know the cause of? He shook his head and swore through gritted teeth, tried a button and pulled a handspike. It did nothing. He tried again.

Bård was shouting at him, begging him to please fix it, he couldn't die here. The long arms of the younger brother were pressed against the window on his side and the beeping and blinking board in front of him, and he looked as if he was keeping the thing together and whole, stopping the outside from breaking through the metal and grabbing them. Vegard tried something else, with poor results.

Earth was reaching for them, coming up to meet them, to collect the pieces of the small plane along with the pieces of their fragile bodies into unsound safety. Vegard could see it now, clear as the sky that was pushing them down. They fell below the highest mountain tops. His head was hurting and his shaking hands ran out of emergency tricks to try. His lungs contracted, wouldn't let him draw in air. He needed Bård to stop shouting his name, he couldn't concentrate like this. His eyes closed, and he forced his lungs to expand as wide as they managed, breathing unevenly and convulsively.

"Bård," he whispered, but his brother was still screaming - was he praying? "Bård, stop shouting. I can't... Bård! Bår-"

Then there was silence. Everything was white and peaceful, the world was cast into a perfect calmness that seemed to consume the earth and the sky. Death.


	3. Crashed

But something brutal broke through the delicate film that had formed between him and the world. If it had been a taste of death, then something grim had decided he hadn't earned it yet.  
  
First entered the ringing in his ears, faint but constant, almost like sirens of some sort. Only his own jagged excuse of a breath was enough to break through the sound.  
  
Then the soothing whiteness transformed. It grew spikes and stung his closed lids. He willed his eyes open, not sure if he wanted to know whether the world still waited for him, or if he would be faced by some otherworldly abomination. The whiteness flooded him, blinded him and he understood he was far from dead. The sun was gazing at him with judging rays, burning his guilty skin raw.  
  
He felt a panic in his body rushing further in his flesh for every heartbeat that continued his life for another couple of seconds. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see anyhting but the sun. Something ran into his eyes and mouth. Was it sweat or blood? Oil?  
  
A sharp pain radiated from his right leg through him suddenly. It traveled along his nerves in strong pulses, switfly making its way as if the signals were fatally delayed already. The agony pierced his shin and calf, making his body twitch involuntarily as his muscles contracted in violent cramps while his brain was sending out desperate orders to just _breathe_.  
  
Then another pain pulsated through him again and again, beating him with a force he'd never felt before. Was it physical or psychological? He had no idea but it left him with only one thought.  
  
 _Bård._  
  
He tried to move. Pained gasps left his lips. His hands shook uncontrollably and he needed to throw up.  
  
He did. The foul fluids left his body as he convulsed, gasping for air in between. In the end he coughed blood and slime, then heaved dry. The smell hit him sharply and he tried to crawl further away from the mess, but something was keeping his foot chained to the ground.  
  
He helped himself up into a sitting position with his hands which caved in under him twice before he succeeded. The pain was unreal, almost felt too strong to be believable. His hands clutched his thigh as he fought unconsciousness that was lurking right in front of him, exposed to the daylight. Brown eyes were too blurred to see anything but a bloody mess as an extension to his thigh. The smell of iron and gasoline and destruction made him want to throw up again, but there was nothing left to run up and corrode his throat anymore.  
  
He wiped his face with his shaking hand again and again until his sight began to clear a bit. His stinging eyes hit a familiar light brown colour, hair that had grown slightly too long, coated with an unfamiliar redness. That colour - it didn't belong there. It was wrong.   
  
Bård lay beside his brother on his side, face turned against Vegard's thigh. The plane had crashed in an angle that had thrown Vegard a little further along the ground than Bård. His blue eyes were struggling to keep open, occasionally rolling back in his head as muscles in his face twitched tiredly.  
  
"Bård!" Vegard croaked and cleared his throat. His voice had left him, no matter how loud he wanted to scream he only managed to produce half-choked words. "Bård, oh god. Are you okay? Bård? I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." He reached for him, but all remaining strength in his arms seemed to have subsided. He managed to get ahold of Bård's limp wrist, and he pulled at it weakly, crying his brother's name. Bård's eyes opened and his unfocused and glassy irises searched for the source of the familiar voice. "Do you hear me? I'm so sorry, Bård, don't die. Tell me you hear me."  
  
The younger brother let out a faint sound, barely audible among the thoughts in Vegard's head, but enough to let him know he was still there.  
  
He had messed up, messed both their lives up. What was he going to do now? He pulled at Bård's arm and felt hot tears unfocuse his eyes as his stiff and trembling fingers pushed up Bård's sleeve enough for him to grab his free wrist and feel his skin in his palm. Was it really that cold or did he just imagine it? He gripped it tightly to feel his pulse.  
  
"Vegard..." Bård whispered and fought to keep his eyes on the older brother. "Hurts..."  
  
"Shh," Vegard adjusted his grip, deep wrinkles on his brow. Where the hell was the damn pulse? "Just keep your eyes open, okay? Keep your eyes open and lookat me," he croaked weakly and grabbed at the wrist again. He needed to feel the pulse, it was the only way he could know he wasn't hallucinating and Bård was actually alive. The little brother's eyes were closing again and Vegard spoke as loud as he could, "focus on me, Bård! Please, please don't die! I'll fix this, you just need to look at me."   
  
After seconds longer than eternities, Bård's eyes opened, and at the exact same time Vegard found the pulse and felt a hot wave crawl over his body. "Oh god," he whispered. "Oh god, oh god... Okay, good. Good, just look at me now, okay? Do you understand?"  
  
Bård nodded weakly but his eyes were turning glassier by the second. A thin dark - almost black - line trickled down from the corner of his mouth. The blueness disappeared under heavy eyelids.  
  
"No, no, no, Bård! No, listen to me!" Vegard shouted but his voice was too hoarse to reach his brother. "Don't disappear from me now! I'll fix it, I promise! I'm sorry!"  
  
As his tears rolled down his dusty and bloody cheeks and dry apologies heaved from his jarred lungs between forced sobs, a distant feeling crept into his flesh and turned his white bones into lead. His head started blacking out and he lay down on the ground again, still clutching at his brother's wrist and calling for him. He fell beyond some veil and unconsciousness wrapped its tight arms around him and consumed his senses. The pain in his foot dulled, as did the ringing in his ears and the blinding sun in his eyes, and even the stinging smell in his nose, until he was weightless.  
  
"Bård, I'm sorry..." Left his lips one last time when he felt nothing but the tingling of Bård's cold skin against his own, and the last thought was of how his brother's pulse seemed to die out under his fingers. He wasn't sure if it was him losing the grip or Bård losing his life.

 


End file.
